


i'll bleed for you

by MementoMoriPontifexMortis



Series: My H/C_Bingo Prompts [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Graphic Descriptions of blood, Slightly Graphic Descriptions of a Dying Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MementoMoriPontifexMortis/pseuds/MementoMoriPontifexMortis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is cold, the sky is a memory and for once, it's silent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll bleed for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyTeddy878](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyTeddy878/gifts).



> So the prompt was Blood Loss, and so I wrote this. In like the span of thirty minutes. I'm also a little sad.

When Barney was 4, his mother took him out to stare up at the sky while his father slept. She told him stories of the constellations and told him that there was worlds out there, she was positive of it because it was just so vast and amazing. When he was 4, Barney decided that he would make his mother happy by becoming an astronomer. She had always loved the sky and he would bring the sky to her. 

When Barney was 10 years old, his mother spoke the last words she ever would by saying "I love you", before getting into a car with his father. They wouldn't make it wherever they were going and they would never make it back home. While Barney had no care if his father made it home, he cared about his mother. At 10 years old, Barney cursed the sky and the stars and the universe for leaving him with Clint to take care of and no family in sight. 

Years later, Barney Barton stared up at the stars that his mother spoke of and watched as his blood left his body via a wound in his chest, the shock leaving him with nothing more to do then repeat the same words his mother had spoken when he was four. If he did not do that, then he'd be thinking of the way his blood ran red as it seeped into his shirt - a pale cream one that belonged to his partner's husband - and the way it pooled around him, causing him to feel sticky and wet. 

If he didn't think of the stars, he'd think of the way that there was a wound in his chest causing him to die of blood loss and the way that the red that was his blood crept out of his mouth whenever he coughed. If he didn't think of the stars, he'd think of the way that he could no longer feel his extremities, he could no longer feel warmth, he could no longer think calmly. If he had not the stars, Barney would be thinking of the fact that his wound would've been an impossible shot, especially with the weapon of choice. He would be thinking of the way everything felt fuzzy and the way.. 

the..   
way...........

The stars.....

If he had not the stars, Barney would focus more on the fact that he was dying of blood loss and that it was Clint who shot him. It was too an impossible shot.. way too impossible. But why? 

If not.. 

The blood curled around his neck, the wound hemorrhaging just as Barney heard the sound of rushed footsteps. The second a soft -loud?- cry was heard. The blood was sticky. 

With the blood curling around him, Barney fell into the black, thinking of the stars. 

With the blood - there was too much blood, he thought, how much blood could one have? - seeping on the floor, Barney pushed his way into the sky. 

So much blood. 

So much blood. 

With the blood curling around Barney, Clint Barton vomited a few feet away from his dead brother. There was still blood seeping out of the wound he caused, still dripping onto the floor near his brother's head, his brother's red hair becoming darker and the pale skin that they always had, turned paler besides the areas that the substance touched. 

Clint wiped at his face, the urge to vomit again strong but not strong enough. Not strong enough. 

With the blood... 

The blood...

Clint leaned down and sobbed, pulling out his arrow that had punctured his brother's chest, cutting it's way through to the lungs. He did so smoothly, making sure that it left a clean hole. With everything left in him, which at the moment was not much, Clint pulled his brother into his lap and cradled him for a moment before he let his brother down - ha! - and pushed off the ground. He had to leave. He had to. 

Leaving his brother with one last look, Clint stared at the blood on his hands, the blood of his brother and felt all the hopelessness from his life sink in. 

He would be as empty as his brother was. 

He would be empty. 

He was empty. 

A street away from where he would confront Trickshot over this, a van began to move and make it's way through the town where it would take the body of one Charles Bernard Barton and breathe life back into him. 

And the blood loss would be just a distant memory.


End file.
